


Softly

by kovya



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:29:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kovya/pseuds/kovya
Summary: A drab for Pod cos he deserves it





	Softly

The cold winter wind blew her hair back from her face and made it dance in front of the open window. It was a wonder her nose hadn't yet fallen off her face in the blistering cold the winds carried from the Wall.  
But they carried more than just the cold.

Nola shivered as her thoughts fled to the gruesome stories of death that were now told all around her.  
The gods were punishing them, the old women coming to her house whispered and moaned. Well if that was what they were doing, Nola supposed they deserved it.

She more than anyone.

Maybe that was what the world needed, a cause to unite under in order not to kill each other. Not everyone saw that the War of the Five Kings devastated the lands more than the dead ever would.  
Death was better than some of the things Nola had seen done in the war.

She had led a miserable life following her short-lived childhood. Born and raised in Winterfell, her family had the good fortune of an honourable house to serve and bring food to their table. Both her parents served the Starks and she and her older sisters all thought it was their destiny as well.  
Until the Lord traveled South and the Greyjoys came. And then the Boltons. 

Nola had no family left by the time Jon Snow won her home back. Her father died serving Ned Stark in the South, her mother was raped and murdered by the Ironborn. Two of her sisters suffered the same fate, leaving their children into the others' care.

Out of six of Nola's sisters, only she remained in the end. She and five nephews to take care of. She always did so, no matter the cost. Nola knew what she had to do to survive.

She sold her body when her trade did not suffice, sent her eldest nephew into war at the age of twelve, lied and tricked the Bolton's people into buying her poisonous medicine and then made money out of selling some more to counter the effects. But in the end, Nola survived the war. 

She wasn't so sure about the Long Night.

Abandoning her way of living came as a kind of welcome shock she wasn't yet relieved of. She found it strange not to fear for her life every day, found it stranger there was enough food for the three kids that remained in her home.  
Even stranger that she now sold real medicine and healed Stark soldiers, Northerners - her own people.

The youth she thought she lost in the war was slowly, but surely starting to come back. For Nola wasn't old yet, she had yet to turn twenty two and hope started to flicker in her eyes once she saw the Stark banner fly from the walls of Winterfell.

But for what? For the dead to come and strip her of every single thing she fought for, suffered for, did terrible things for? No. She wouldn't permit that. She wouldn't stop fighting, wouldn't just roll over and let the wights take her for their own.

She was breathing still.

The coming and going of her patients was the thing she found solace in, even if they sometimes left in caskets. It reminded her of her mother's routine to check the wounded and help the ill. It made her feel useful and less vile than she thought she was.

"Auntie," the youngest of her nieces, Lyn came through the door of her sleeping chamber one day, a panicked look on her smudged face. "there's a man at the door, says he hurt 'is leg. I can't open the door."

Nola sighed, got up from her cot and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Lyn was indeed too little to reach the latch in the door to unlock it and it seemed Rob and Don were already in training. 

"Go on, prepare the table while I show him in." she said to her niece and went to the locked door.

"Who is it?" Nola asked through the door, ever wary of strangers.

"My name's Podrick Payne, my lady," a man's voice answered and her guard dropped when she heard the strain in his voice. "I'm lady Brienne's squire."

Nola threw on a woolen shift over her night dress before finally unlocking the bolt in the door.  
He was a broad shouldered man, still dressed in his training gear, his right leg slightly raised to put less weight on it. The cheeks beneath his scruffy stubble were red with the cold and his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

"Come in," she said and he attempted to walk over her treshold, but stumbled. She was at his side before he tumbled over, putting his arm over her shoulders. 

Despite her support, the squire still refused to put much of his weight on her, but chose to rather suffer in silence. Nola had no objections to that. 

Podrick's dark eyes watched Lyn as she threw a stained blanket over the table in the center of the room and rushed to gather the usual instruments. Nola sat him down on a hard stool and he winced when he lowered his leg to the floor.

"What did you do?" she asked, schooling her voice into the flat tone Lyn often referred to as the 'healer voice' as she spoke. 

The man straightened his knee and looked up at her with glassy eyes. 

"I think I broke my ankle," he muttered, something akin to embarrassment on his face. "we were sparring and I misstepped. I can't put my weight on the leg since."

"'S not broken, is it, 'Tie?" Lyn sat on the floor beside her aunt and watched the leg with curious eyes. It didn't seem deformed, but it was hard to tell with layers of clothing and armour over it.

"I think not," the healer said with a small smile to the injured squire. "but you'll have to let me take a look at it."

He nodded with a solemn expression and she started unclasping the armour around his shin and taking off his boot.  
"How come you didn't go to the Maester?" she asked.

It was unusual for men of higher position to go to her cottage for help. Nola's patients were mostly pregnant women, cripples or low-born footsoldiers. 

"It was closer to the training ground, my lady," he said with a wince as his boot came off.

"I'm no lady, m'lord," she turned his foot over. "you should call me by my name. It's Nola."

"And I'm not a lord. Well, I am, but-"

"It's only sprained, Podrick," she cut him off and Lyn giggled from the floor. 

He shot the little girl a smile and then his dark eyes settled back on Nola's reassuring gaze. She turned and went to her chest to find some linen for the bandages and kneeled back in front of him to tie his bluish foot. 

"Look here, love," she spoke to her niece, starting to wrap the bandage. "we do not want to move the ankle, as it can only heal with time. We only need the knight to use it as little as possible and keep it in place."

"I'm no knight-"

"But how is he not gonna use it if he's fightin'?" Lyn asked her aunt, ignoring Podrick's words. 

"Well," Nola looked at Podrick. "we can hope he won't be fighting for a few weeks from now."

A weight settled over her at the thought of the young man in front of her dying in a few month's time. He had his whole life ahead of him. As did she. As did Lyn.

She sighed and finished wrapping his ankle, then slid the boot carefully back onto his foot. 

"The snow might reduce the swelling a bit," she said to him. "if you have trouble sleeping, take some milk of the poppy for the pain and you'll be alright. Go easy on the foot while training, but for gods' sakes, don't stop."

Podrick stood up, a little less pain visible in his eyes. He was probably relieved when he realised he didn't break it. 

"I won't." he put a hand on her shoulder in thanks and smiled at her. She felt nothing but sadness and lingering warmth from his touch as he ruffled Lyn's hair before limping out the door.

"He's handsome, like a knight from Le's stories," Lyn said when he closed the door behind him.

Not for much longer; Nola thought bitterly and started to tie her dirty apron around her waist. The day was starting and all there was left for her to do was fight death til the end of it.

A month passed and Nola hadn't made that much money off healing since before her father died. It wasn't a thing to hope for, but still, she found comfort in it. If it was in nothing else but seeing her niece's eyes brighten at the taste of freshly baked bread.

Ille, the first child of Nola's oldest sister wanted to marry the butcher and there was nothing her aunt could do but sulk in silence. Because what was there left to say? That she had no future with him? She had little to none on her own. That he was twice her age? It didn't matter; they could die in less than a moon.

Nola was walking in the mud of the training ground, to go talk to the butcher about the wedding when she saw him again.

The squire who came to her with a sprained ankle was sparring with one of her nephews as fiercely as a lion. She couldn't help but stop in her tracks to watch them duel.  
Don was quite big for his age, his tall frame surpassed the one of his opponent, but due to years of malnourishment, he lacked muscle. Podrick's sword pushed forcefully into Don's weapon until it fell right out of his grasp. The squire wasted little time in knocking him into the dirt and putting the tip of his blade to Don's throat.

He extended a hand and raised him up after a moment. The two of them clasped hands and Podrick said something to him, probably a word of advice before finally noticing her watching from the corner.

"Is the ankle affecting my fighting?" he asked with a smile as he approached her.

"Does it still hurt?" Nola returned his smile.

"Sometimes," he shrugged. "but I'm used to it. I can fight just the same as I did before."

"That's good to hear," she truly meant it. "did you know that was my nephew you knocked into the ground?"

He had the grace to look shocked and then opened his mouth, probably with the intention to apologise, but closed it at the sound of her laugh.

"It's alright," she found it impossible to stop smiling at his baffled expression. "he's here to learn how to fight. I trust you'll teach him everything you know."

"I will, my- Nola." he said and she was taken aback by the fact that he somehow remembered her name. "Would you like to walk with me?"

"Why not?" She was more than happy to postpone the meeting with her niece's intended and spending a little time with Podrick couldn't hurt.

They strolled around the courtyard, Nola's long hair whipping in the freezing wind. She left her house bareheaded, for she left her headscarf for Lyn to cover herself up better on her morning errands.  
She didn't consider Podrick's request strange, for many of the people she helped expressed some form of gratitude if she hadn't charged them anything.

But in this case, she was just a bit more nervous for whatever reason. He was a nobleman after all, and she hadn't had a chance to speak to one of those in over a decade. Should she curtsey and call him 'm'lord'?

She was fairly certain he was of age with her and nothing had indicated that he was as stiff and stuck up as most of the lords and ladies she knew. He seemed surprisingly genuine, humble in her home, sparing a smile or two for her niece even when he was in pain.

"I haven't seen you in quite a while," he mused, scratching at his beard. "is everything alright?"

"Beside the cold, everything is as well as it could be, considering... everything." Nola kicked at the snow with her boots, feeling her heart beating in her throat. To be fair, she did everything she could to distract herself from thinking about it. Death.

"How are you faring?" she asked in turn. 

"Good, I s'pose," he said, a frown etching itself onto his sweaty face. "the King in the North will return soon with the Dragonglass to make new weapons. He'll bring men too."

"The enemy approaches too, don't they?" 

He only looked at her with those dark eyes of his and it looked as if he was going to say something, but then changed his mind.

"We'll do everything to survive, to fight them," he spoke, determination making his voice stronger. "we'll protect you."

Nola smiled at him. She wished she had the determination and hope he did. But she had too much to lose to hold false hope. She had to keep her wits about herself and her family together. Or what's left of it anyway. But that was proving to be a losing battle as well.

"I have faith in you," she stopped in her tracks and put a hand to his elbow. "but not all men share your bravery, or your valour and strength. My only hope is that men like you don't die on the battlefield."

He squeezed her hand with his gauntlet-covered one and she cast her gaze to the snow underneath their feet. A sigh tore itself from her lungs and she felt the sting of tears when she looked at him again.

"I'll do everything I can to keep you and your daughter safe," he almost whispered and she blinked away her tears.

"I thank you, m'lord, but Lyn's not my daughter, she was my sister's," she explained. "I'm the only one left, so it fell upon me to take care of my nephews."

"Then you are not married?" Podrick's voice wavered and she had to stifle a smile at his question.

"No," Nola said and they resumed walking in silence.

She worked her hands off in order to evade ever having to marry, for that would mean marrying one of the Bolton men. And even that wasn't the worst of it.  
Nola was fairly certain that had a husband come into her home, or she to his, she would have to abandon her sisters' children and as such, her own.

She would rather die than part with them and see them without anyone to care for them. 

"What happened to your sisters, if you don't mind me asking?" The squire broke the silence and Nola huffed a sigh.

"Illness, labour," she stated. "but it was mostly the Boltons."

"I'm sorry-"

"It's not your fault."

A few moments stretched between them as they watched the snow fall into each other's hair before melting away. 

"Do you still serve the Lady Knight?" Nola remembered to ask. It was a curious thing, a woman having the same respect as a member of the Kingsguard.

"I do, yes," pride shone in his eyes. "lady Brienne is the one who taught me everything I know. From fighting to skinning a rabbit."

"Tell me about her," she requested, winding her arm into the crook of his elbow. "she sounds like an interesting woman."

"She is," Podrick looked surprised at her closeness, but didn't shun her away. "she was born on the Island of Tarth, or the Sapphire Isle, in the South, but she served Lord Renly Baratheon during the rebellion. She always wanted to be a knight, despite being a woman, so she trained to be twice as good as any Ser."

Nola chuckled at the praise coming from him. She heard nothing of the warrior woman other than that she was sometimes called Brienne the Beauty, and not kindly.

"That's quite remarkable," she quipped. "I'd like to meet her one day."

"I hope you meet her too."

"Sometimes, I wish I knew how to wield a sword," Nola blurted, not even knowing why she was telling him all that. "I think it would've made some things easier to handle."

"Still, I think you have the greater skill," Podrick countered, his eyes warm as the summer sun. "you repair all the damage done by war and weapons. I heard you're better than the Winterfell Maester himself."

"That's hardly true." she looked to the ground again, but his warm fingers gently raised her chin, so she was facing him again.

A small smile graced his lips and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. 

"Even if it isn't, the things you do for the people of Winterfell do not go unnoticed." His breath fanned across her face and warmed her cold heart. She wished what he was saying was true.

"I did some horrible things too." Her lips trembled, but not from the cold. What was she doing, strolling arm in arm with a soon to be knight? She was nobody, a defiled woman, she had no right to such fine company.

"Forgive me for wasting your time, m'lord," she tore away from his comforting touch and felt the freezing absence of it only moments after. She didn't wait to hear what he had to say, only turned on her heel and strode to the butcher's house.

Choosing to stow away every unusual thing she felt in the squire's presence, Nola tried to remain calm through the approaching death they would all surely suffer. For what she felt with him was new, a strange thing she only heard of, never experienced. If it wasn't love, it was dangerously close to it.

And Nola couldn't afford one more person to love, not if she wanted to survive. Love shouldn't exist in this world where everyone must betray it, hide it or die for it. She didn't want to burden him with the heavy weight of her existence.

The crimes she committed burned into her conscience and gave her nightmares, the poverty and coldness were just the opposite of what she wanted her nephews to recieve, but the only things she could give. 

So she tried to stay out of his way, tried not to look at him too often and make it all even worse.  
She would regret it til the end of her days.

The day of the battle was upon them and Nola was almost frantic with trying to gather everything she and her two nieces could carry; food, skins of water and plenty of furs and blankets. She didn't even want to think back to Rob and Don preparing for killing. Or being killed.

"Lyn! Come back, girl," she was running through the courtyard of Winterfell, chasing the bullheaded girl who wanted to see her cousins one last time. "Lyn!"

Lyn's quick feet and small frame made her almost impossible to catch, and Nola soon lost sight of her. She could have broken down and cried like a child in that moment. She just wanted to keep them all safe. Why couldn't they just be safe?

Nola kept running through the bustling courtyard, desperate to find her niece. She rounded a corner and almost collided with somebody's armoured back.  
The soldier turned around and her eyes locked to his.

"I want Rob," the girl struggling against his grasp on her arm muttered as she saw her aunt. "I forgot to give 'im the ribbon."

"I figured you'd be looking for her," Podrick said quietly and Nola couldn't find any strength to either answer him or chastise the girl.

"Where's it? Where's the ribbon?" she asked as tears started to spill down Lyn's cheeks. She held out a clenched fist and Nola recognised a pale blue piece of her niece's nightdress peeking through.

"Rob's got to get ready for the battle," Nola struggled to keep her voice even as she spoke. "he can't be bothered now, he's got much more important things to do."

"But- but Le said if she didn't give Jo hers he wouldn't come back. I want Rob to come back," Lyn's chin trembled. "and Don too, but I've got just this one."

Nola crouched down to the child's eye level and took hold of her hand, squeezing it firmly, but reassuringly. She knew Lyn wasn't daft, she understood well enough that something dire was about to happen and Nola wouldn't let her despair. Even if she did.

Just as she opened her mouth to try and reason with her again, it was Podrick who beat her to it with an offer she couldn't refuse.

"I'll take it to him," he said to Lyn. "I'll see him on the battlefield anyway."

The blonde girl looked to her aunt, seeking approval and Nola nodded. She gave the squire her precious ribbon and sniffed.

"Look after 'im, Ser." she said, but Podrick didn't laugh at her childish demand.

"I will, I promise." he took Lyn's token and a sad smile crossed his unshaven face. He knew he couldn't keep it and Nola could never blame him.

The girl smiled back, seeming to miss the regret behind the gesture and looked ready to run off again.

"Thank Ser Podrick, Lyn," Nola said and her niece complied.

"Take this and go to the cripts, I won't have you running round any longer. I'll know if you don't and if you don't take these things with you, neither you, me or Ille will have anything to eat. Do you understand?"

"Yes, 'Tie." Lyn took the bundle and sagged under its weight, but Nola knew it was the best way to prevent her from running back to her cousin. 

Once she began walking away towards the cripts, Nola turned to Podrick who was looking at her strangely.

"Thank you again," she said. "I don't expect you to keep the promise."

"No, but she does," he looked back at Lyn struggling with the weight of the bundle. 

A surge of affection for the man coursed through her, followed by immeasurable sadness weighing it down. It was all too much and the weariness was slowly eating away at her. She was so close to losing it and crumbling down in front of Podrick's kind eyes.

"Nola, I-"

"I don't want you to go," she blurted, her words coming out too rushed. "I don't want any of this to happen."

He stepped closer, put a gentle hand on her elbow and she had half a mind to turn away when she saw how he kept looking at her. Nola was so afraid. She was afraid of dying, of being left alone, but mostly, she was afraid of the thing she saw in his eyes.

Was it lust? Was it simple affection? She didn't want to risk it.  
But wasn't her whole existence already at risk? If there was ever a now or never moment, it was that one.

So when he leaned down and placed his lips softly to hers, she didn't pull away, but did the opposite. Nola fisted the collar of the shirt under his armour and brought him even closer to her. Podrick's fingers tangled in her dark hair as he kissed her fiercely, conveying everything he might never get the chance to say.

She wasn't aware of anyhting else in that moment, not of the curious eyes around them, not even of the call for him. There was only him. Podrick's mouth melting so sweetly against hers and holding her close, warming up every single muscle in her body. She wanted to stay like that forever.

Finally, she found an escape from the almost constant thoughts of peril plaguing her. But it was so shortly lived.

Somebody called for Podrick again, and they had to part.

"I never want to leave here." She sighed against his lingering mouth and felt him tighten his grip on her waist.

"We have to." He put his chin on top of her head as Nola buried her face into his chest and breathed in his scent. She wanted to remember it forever.

"I know." The words left her trembling lips and he kissed her feverishly, as if he couldn't breathe without her.

She made herself pull away from him to look into his eyes one last time. This fleeting kiss could be the last thing they ever shared.  
The look of grim determination he posessed would sear itself into her memory, for it spoke of a promise he was intent on keeping. He would fight for her.

Nola could only hope it was enough to pull him through. She couldn't bear to lose him.


End file.
